


Silent Treatment

by betawho



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 08:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betawho/pseuds/betawho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River was giving him the silent treatment, but he didn't know why!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Treatment

“I’m sorry, River. Whatever it was I did, I’m sorry,” the Doctor said abjectly.

River was giving him the silent treatment. They’d been on an adventure, saved a schoolbus of alien children, and he’d even let her fly the Tardis, but she hadn’t spoken a word to him.

“I apologize!” he said, waving his hands in the air, helplessly aggrivated. “I’ll fix it, just tell me what I did!”

She gave him a withering glare.

He slumped. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked at the glass floor. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings...”

River rolled her eyes, set the Tardis to hover in the vortex and walked over to him. He braced himself for a slap.

She grabbed his braces and kissed him.

His eyes popped wide. He blinked, staring down cross-eyed at her. She took her time. His eyes drifted shut. Slowly, his hands stole up around her shoulders.

She pulled back and cleared her throat. He instantly snatched his hands back.

“Sorry.”

The word came out as a croak. He frowned. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I didn’t mean...” his voice petered out on a rusty squeek.

He frowned in confusion, then licked his lips. Suddenly his eyes widened with understanding.

“Risha pollen?” he asked, in a squeaky voice.

She nodded.

“How did you...” he cleared his throat again and coughed. “How did you get exposed to Risha pollen?” The last words petered out on a high breathy note.

She gave him a longsuffering look. She pulled a small card out of her diary, the card was dented in the middle, and had the logo of a famous 51st century florist on one side.

He took it and flipped it over, “From a secret admirer,” was written on the other side, in his handwriting.

“Uhm,” His eyes sneaked back up to hers.

She was glaring, silently, arms crossed. But with an exasperated fondness behind her eyes that told him he might just live.

He cleared his throat again, “I suppose I shouldn’t send flowers to apologize?” he rasped out.

She rolled her eyes. She stepped forward and cuddled herself against him, tucking her face in his neck, her cheek on his chest. Her hair tickled his face as she shook her head.

“Don’t need flowers,” she husked out past a numb tongue. Her arms wrapped around him tightly. “Just you.”

—

* * *

_For more stories by this author click[here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/betawho/works)._  
 _Please take a moment to leave a comment in the box below._


End file.
